A Love Story
by Marlex
Summary: McGee is attempting to come up with a short story for an upcoming anthology when he finds himself writing the one scene he told himself he'd never write. The one she didn't want him to write. The one he wants her to read.


**Author's Note:** This is another story I wrote for the Comment Fic community on LiveJournal. The prompt this time was "a story can be a powerful weapon." I really like Abby/McGee, and I think I'll probably be writing more such stories in the future.

A Love Story

Timothy McGee didn't like thinking of it as a weapon. But as the saying went, "All's fair in love and war."

And this was a bit of both. And as he stared at his typewriter, he knew this was one last salvo in a war he no longer expected to win. But he had to try.

One part cold war and one part game of cat and mouse, his relationship with Abby Sciuto had never been normal. But neither of them could be called normal, so he shouldn't have been surprised. She was eccentric, slept in a coffin and was a scientific genius when it came to forensics. He was a computer geek who just happened to be a gun-toting federal agent and a best-selling author.

After the dating phase of their relationship ended seemingly as soon as he asked her where it was going, they'd managed to stay best friends, confidants and support systems for each other. And most of the time, that was enough for McGee. He enjoyed being around her and being there for her.

But there were moments-like when she'd say something designed to rile him up, or when they were talking over a shared bowl of ice cream after his or her latest breakup-that he would remember he had truly been in love with her when he'd asked the question that ended it.

Nine years later, he was no longer the same man he was when they were dating. More world-wise and world-weary, the mileage of a near decade as a federal agen-often on the front lines between life and death-had left numerous scars, both physical and emotional.

He'd long figured out that writing was his outlet to keep the hidden wounds from festering long enough to cause an infection, the ones he refused to share with Abby because he didn't want to burden her with those kinds of problems. Getting dumped by his girlfriend? That he talked to Abby about. Watching an innocent victim die as he tried in vain to stem the flow of blood from a bullet wound? That went into his writings. Most of those stories didn't end up in his books, but a few did, and to his still constant surprise, readers found enjoyment in them and continued to buy them.

After the incident with the crazed fan who had killed people because of his book, McGee nearly quit writing altogether. In fact, had he not been under contract for "Rock Hollow" and its eventual sequel, he would have. Six years later, he was happy he still had the outlet, although he was much more careful about from where he drew his inspiration.

Along the way, he'd discovered another benefit of his writing. It allowed him to control fate, such as giving McGregor and Amy the chance he and Abby never did. Even before he was forced to lie about the fictional characters' upcoming nuptials, he always planned on pairing the couple. It was a scene he'd been looking forward to writing since the first novel.

But then Abby had stepped in again, stating emphatically that the two "weren't right for eachother." So he kept them apart through the next three novels, despite the constant urging of his editor and his legions of fans.

If McGee had changed and been changed over the past nine years, Abby was the same. She was a constant, even if she was one with more variables than he could count. He remembered how Tony described her when they were being held hostage in Africa: "A paradox wrapped in an oxymoron, smothered in contradiction." That was Abby to a tee.

So he never got to write the scene with McGregor telling Amy about his feelings, what she meant to him, why keeping her safe was his number one priority, and how their continued friendship was more important to him than anything else. And despite all of that, McGregor was still willing to risk it all by telling her the truth he'd been hiding, that he loved her and was now begging that she take the same risk with him.

Last week, his editor called about an upcoming anthology he might be interested in. It was one of those with a theme, in this case, love and weapons. His first three ideas were now crumpled at the bottom of the wastebasket under his desk.

McGee looked down at the pages neatly stacked next to the typewriter. He hadn't intended on writing it. Even in the world you created, sometimes you didn't get the happy ending you wanted. But he found himself typing anyway. It was perhaps not his best work, but it was close. It felt the most "right" of anything he'd written, to be sure.

Which was why he'd never publish it. It was too real, too much him and not enough McGregor.

But Abby didn't know that, not yet, and she insisted on being the first to read anything he wrote for publication, even before his editor. She was smart enough to realize what this story was. She would be able to see the McGee and not the McGregor. It was everything she wouldn't allow him to say to her face. But looking down at what he'd just written, he knew he had to say the words, even if it was on paper.

And he would accept the consequences, whatever they may be. What he couldn't do anymore was stand by and do nothing. He wanted the next time Abby said something to rile him up, it was because they were going home together. He wanted the next time they were sharing ice cream, it was over some shared moment of happiness, not an individual heartbreak.

A story was his last and best weapon. It might blow up in his face, but he had to pull the trigger or he'd be stuck in a no-man's land of uncertainty.

He grabbed his cell off the desk and hit her number before he could stop himself. It rang three times before she answered.

"McGee," she said with her usual exuberance. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your call on a Saturday afternoon?"

"Well, I just worked up a Deep Six short story and I was hoping you could give a once over for me," McGee said, doing his best to his voice even. "Do you have some time this evening, it's not very long."

"Sure McGee, I'm not doing anything, so come on over."

"Thanks Abby, I'll be right there."


End file.
